This slime, it’s personal

Earl Fowler

You will have noticed that advertising has become bolder in recent years. Franker. Particularly around such subjects as human bodily emissions.

You’ve come a long way, baby, from the days when fusty ads for Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound for Women, marketed as a cure for a host of unmentionable “women’s problems,” were tucked away like shameful secrets in the corsets, crinolines and bustles of Good Housekeeping or Today’s Woman.

For example, comedian Amy Schumer has been all in (no pun intended) on the benefits of different sizes of Tampax tampons based on “flow forecasts,” which apparently range from pineapple express to atmospheric river.

Lately on TSN and Sportsnet (insert your own conclusion here about the typical viewer demographic), I’ve been seeing an awful lot of a buff old gaffer in his underwear who opens a commercial for an incontinence product with a memorable salutation: “Hi. Now we’re comfortable. Let’s talk urine leakage.”

Thanks, Captain Culotte, but now that we’re comfortable, let’s just skip the handshake. And how about we talk highlights from the Habs game instead? Politics. Quadratic functions. Anything but your artisanal moisture issue. There’s something about an Agua Pelvis man. But whatever it is, I don’t want to know.

Well now, what can a pore boy do ’cept to string in a rock’n’roll gland? If it drips, Big Pharma can monetize it. Relax. You’re soaking in it. And I don’t mean Palmolive.

Now that the ick barrier that once deterred advertisers from mining the no-holds-barred, all-holes-bared Wild West beyond Jane Russell’s Playtex Cross Your Heart Bra, here are some other commercial pitches we might expect to see between the hockey scores and the Hogan’s Heroes reruns:

— “Good Morning, Mucus™” Nasal Starter Kit Dressed in a flimsy nightgown, actress and influencer Sydney Sweeney peers into the camera at 6 a.m., gently honking into a glass jar. “Nighttime drainage happens,” she chirps, swirling the contents like a sommelier. “That’s why I start my day by assessing viscosity.” The kit includes colour charts, a handy ruler and a travel-size neti pot shaped like a unicorn. Because nothing says rise and shine like benchmarking your phlegm.

— Earwax Artisan Collection A rustic commercial set in a barn. A man with a beard — holy smokes, it’s Sam Elliott in full Big Lebowski cowboy mode! — drawls, “They said earwax was gross. We said, ‘It’s natural.’ ” Tiny tins are opened reverently. “Notes of copper. A whisper of childhood swimming pools.” Great for candles, moustache wax or just knowing you own it.

— ToeJam™: Proof Your Feet Are Alive A soft-focus close-up of a yoga instructor — is that Maya Rudolph? — peeling apart her toes like she’s opening a love letter. “Dead skin cells, moisture and bacteria are normal,” she whispers. ToeJam™ gently harvests the paste that forms where your toes have been holding hands all day, sealing it in a hygienic pod you can later dispose of, admire or pretend never existed. Tagline: Between every toe is a story.

— BellyButton Vault™ A concerned mom (Nicole Kidman) kneels beside her teenage son (AI version of Danny Bonaduce, circa 1974). “When was the last time you cleaned in there?” Cut to silence. The Vault is a tiny vacuum for the lint, skin and inexplicable grit your navel has been quietly collecting since birth. Commercial ends with a cheerful slogan: It’s not an innie or an outie. It’s a storage unit.

— CrustAway™ Eye Corner Management A woman wakes up. The camera zooms in. Too far. Too far. “Sleep debris accumulates,” the voiceover insists, as a tasteful animation demonstrates how eye gunk forms its tiny cement factories overnight. CrustAway™ dissolves, lifts and catalogues your morning crusts before they migrate into your vision or, worse, your fingers. Now with a “No Peeking” child-lock feature — for adults only. (And you’re right. She does have Bette Davis thighs.)

— The Back There™ Hygiene Woody Wand An elderly couple (negotiations with Ted Danson and Mary Steenburgen pending) strolls along the beach, holding hands. “Some places become … harder to reach,” the man says gently. The Woody wand extends, swivels, vibrates and politely refuses to make eye contact. Marketed as “empowering,” though no one feels empowered watching the commercial during dinner. Just remember. A little dab’ll do ya.

And so on. If advertisers insist on dragging every last bodily function into the spotlight, we may as well prepare ourselves. Today it’s urine leakage. Tomorrow it’s a glossy, slow-motion close-up of whatever your body was quietly dealing with while you were minding your own business. Best buckle up — and maybe light a votive candle.

I’m not saying this is a bad thing. Schumer’s partnership with Tampax has helped to destigmatize menstruation and educate users on proper tampon usage. Her popular, humorous ad campaign was cited by Procter & Gamble in 2022 as a factor in significantly increased demand, contributing to a temporary, widespread tampon shortage alongside supply chain issues. This is progress. Except for any temporary shortages and supply chain issues.

Still, I can’t help feeling a sense of nostalgia toward the halcyon era in which the most bracing images we had to face arose when Martha Ray (“Tell ’em The Big Mouth sent you”) was stumping for Extra Strength Polident and the “Hi guy!” guy from those campy Gillette Right Guard antiperspirant commercials was terrorizing the neighbour with whom he shared a medicine cabinet. “One shot and I’m good for the whole day.” Not a bad tag line for an adult incontinence product, now that I think of it.